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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24425311">criminal convention</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamsolarflare/pseuds/iamsolarflare'>iamsolarflare</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), the Nick &amp; Jon Show</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(well. one original character anyway), Gen, Jonstoner, Nick &amp; Jon Show, Redstoner Cinematic Universe, War Criminal Jon, War Criminal Nick, it's my minesona and i'll put him in space jail if i want to, well i guess it's Space Jail Jon and Blue Eyes White Nick as well but yanno</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:15:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,201</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24425311</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamsolarflare/pseuds/iamsolarflare</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>nick is in space jail after being convicted for multidimensional war crimes. jon never left space jail after being convicted for planetary destruction war crimes. now there's a new dude and he's ~spooky~</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>None</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>criminal convention</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aquelon/gifts">Aquelon</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>coming up with a title for this was the hardest part bc in google docs it just says "it's not a hopperhawks jonstoner crossover, BUT-"</p><p>anyway i'll put my own minesona in the RCUCU (redstoner cinematic universe cinematic universe) i do not give a damn. i like writing war criminal jon he's bastard</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Get </span>
  <em>
    <span>moving</span>
  </em>
  <span>, bud,” Ashlie snarls, somewhere distantly in the space station. Jon jerks his head up in surprise, snapping out of his usual fugue. This isn’t part of the normal guard schedule. Something </span>
  <em>
    <span>interesting</span>
  </em>
  <span> is happening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m moving at a reasonable pace, kiddo,” comes a calm drawl, and Jon is already at the door of his cell. That doesn’t sound like Nick, meaning it wasn’t a breakout, and furthermore - it means someone </span>
  <em>
    <span>new</span>
  </em>
  <span> is here. Which doesn’t happen, not in a place like this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Speaking of Nick… he bangs one hand against the metal wall between their cells. “Yo! War criminal! Get-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Nick snaps, “a </span>
  <em>
    <span>war</span>
  </em>
  <span> criminal. I’m-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-A fallen hero. Yeah, yeah, whatever, not according to the Council, shut up a minute. Listen to what’s going on.” Jon leans back against the door again, straining his ears for the distant sounds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why’d you try to smuggle a damn cell phone in, anyway?” she snaps. Jon can practically hear the shrug in the reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I get one phone call, yeah? Wanted t’tell a pal of mine not to start a riot.” The new person’s voice drops - not in octave, but more like removing a veil of pleasantry. “Unless ya </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to see this whole station </span>
  <em>
    <span>burn</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up. Move.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re lucky I already called ‘im. Real lucky.” The calm, pleasant tone is back in new guy’s voice, the veneer of civility replaced once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He sounds serious,” Nick muses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon snickers. “Nah, he sounds like a crackpot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> one to talk, planet destroyer. That’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> rich.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon ignores the jab - he’ll kick Nick in the shins for it later in the night, assuming that the guards don’t change their control patterns. For now, he listens in, trying to place a voice he’s never heard in his memories. Who could this be? It feels like a just </span>
  <em>
    <span>slightly</span>
  </em>
  <span> familiar voice, like he’d crossed paths with someone who sounded similar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, who else’ve ya got locked up in here?” The new person’s voice is closer now, just rounding a corner. Jon squints out of the door to his cell and sees - well, he already wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but somehow this feels like not it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guy’s tall - probably taller than Nick, and Nicks were usually real beanpoles - and vaguely muscular, not quite </span>
  <em>
    <span>stocky</span>
  </em>
  <span> but somewhere approximating it. He can see faint markings on the guy’s neck and near his wrists - tattoos, maybe, but the fabric shifts slightly and Jon can see some heavy-duty scars there as well. Something big and angry took a swipe at this guy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s a redhead,” Nick notes. “Why do I feel like that’s a bad thing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The new prisoner cocks his head to the side, a slightly lopsided grin flitting across his face. “Y’know what they say, gingers have no soul? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah</span>
  </em>
  <span>…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face is out of the shadows, now, and Jon notices something else odd - one of his eyes is closed. His left eye, specifically, which is surrounded in a ring-pattern marking of some type. A tattoo that got infected, maybe? Whatever the case, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> kicker is the glint in that other eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s looked in the mirror before. His own eyes are dull and cold, as befitting a criminal. The Nick he’d sent out of here had a mournful but determined glint in his eyes. The Nick he’s currently locked up with has wild energy behind the flat glare in his eyes. A crook, someone paying their debts, and someone who thinks they’re in the right - this shine is none of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The new prisoner’s eye is piercing and manic, downright </span>
  <em>
    <span>malicious</span>
  </em>
  <span>. This guy knows what he did. This guy would do it all again in a heartbeat and the only difference would be that he’d probably ask for more money.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he doesn’t even know what the new guy actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashlie leads him to the cell, slams the door behind him, and walks off. At least the guard patterns aren’t changing at all. Jon sits back against the wall, considers using his backdoor lever to go over and greet the new guy, decides against it, and closes his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That guy’s gonna kill ya, Nick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick snorts. “I doubt it. He’s just some petty maniac.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They don’t put petty maniacs in space jail, bud. You just happen to be an exception.” Nick sputters in protest, but he keeps talking. “The point is, I know that plotting silence, met enough Nicks to figure that out. You think you can con the guy. Trust me, he’s gonna kill ya.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So how ‘bout,” drawls the new guy, “instead of gossiping about me, you just </span>
  <em>
    <span>ask</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>New guy is leaning against Nick’s door, drumming his fingers against the sheet metal. He hears rustling from the other room as Nick backs away from the door. Jon glances over to where the new guy was locked in and blinks - the door’s still shut. Either the guy shut it behind him for some reason, or he didn’t ever open the door in the first place and he’s just </span>
  <em>
    <span>out</span>
  </em>
  <span> now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon ignores the weird feeling in his gut and breaks the not-silence instead. “Alright, new guy, would you kill Nick?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. How much are you gonna pay me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can practically </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> War Criminal Nick bristling at the response. “Jon, what the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell!?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright, none of us have money anyway. Even if I felt like hiring a hitman on you, I can’t exactly pay for his services.” Jon sits back down on the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who said anything about </span>
  <em>
    <span>money?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” the new guy says, something dark creeping into his tone, and Jon - despite hardened years of planet destruction - flinches. “There’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>other</span>
  </em>
  <span> ways to pay a debt. More efficient. More effective. Something you probably wouldn’t pay, however.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pause.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Name’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Alex</span>
  </em>
  <span>, by the way. Seems only fair, since I already know who you two are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another pause. Nick speaks up, this time, an annoyed grumble in his voice. A touch of nervousness, but getting directly death-threatened without a gun tends to do that for you. “So what’re you in for, anyway?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex is leaning against the wall between their two cells, now, </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> within eyeshot of both of them, and the grin on his face is smug and proud. “Wrecked the SCDCA.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick sputters. Jon bursts out laughing. Neither of them can speak for their own surprise reactions, but Nick finds his words slightly faster. “You wrecked. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>dimension cop dimension.</span>
  </em>
  <span> On your </span>
  <em>
    <span>own</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p><span>“Yeah. Stole some shit. Did some murder. Did some things worse than murder. Smuggled out </span> <span>a couple people that they were gonna Fire. Ate pizza someone had sent to the dimensional transceiver. They’re gonna be cleaning up the wreckage for a while.”</span></p><p>
  <span>“Why the fuck,” Jon says, still trying to catch his breath, “would you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> all that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I asked myself to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You asked -” Nick puts the pieces together first. Jon can hear him stumbling back even further from the door, and his stomach crawls as he </span>
  <em>
    <span>also</span>
  </em>
  <span> comes to the same realization as Nick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You asked yourself to wreck the SCDCA,” Nick says. “You’re a Constant. You’re in contact with other versions of yourself. That’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>super</span>
  </em>
  <span> illegal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow,” Alex drawls, “it’s almost like I’m in jail right now or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon takes a deep breath. “Alright, so, what’d ya do with the version of yourself who made the request. You kill him? Hide his body somewhere they’d never find it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex’s laugh is harsh and sardonic. “Nah, man. Redtree’s a good guy. We keep in contact. He’s helping one of the Firing refugees. Wouldn’t kill another Alex anyway. Shit happens once we pass beyond the mortal coil.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I get the feeling we probably shouldn’t ask,” Nick says, more to himself than to Alex (who responds anyway).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Prolly shouldn’t. You gonna?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex grins again. “Good plan.” His voice is distant, back in his own cell again - which is </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> weird, because Jon should’ve been able to hear the door opening and closing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He decides not to think about it.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>It’s the next day. All three of them are in the cafeteria, eating synthburgers while Ashlie watches from one corner and Uni fucks around behind the counter. There’s a nervous tension in the air, an awkward silence coming from the presence of the new Constant. Nick picks at his burger. Jon doesn’t have much of an appetite, either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex looks down at his burger, then over to Uni, and leans back in his chair. “Yo, you’re Uni, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? And?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waves one hand, precariously tipping his chair on its two back feet. “You take pride in your job, dull as it is. I can respect that. I got a bargain I can make with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t deal with prisoners,” Uni says, and turns back to the counter. It seems like that’s going to be the end of the interaction, and then something changes about Alex’s tone when he speaks again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smug and calm, an almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>oily</span>
  </em>
  <span> quality to it. Slick, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> the word Jon’s looking for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can get you hooked up with better suppliers, you know. Real meat. Real </span>
  <em>
    <span>vegetables.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Actual yeast to make bread.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Uni freezes in place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can get you their contact info,” Alex drawls. “I just want my hoodie back. Doesn’t even gotta have the stuff I had in it. Just the article of clothing. You can make the best damn burger this galaxy’s seen in </span>
  <em>
    <span>years</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s something about the way he speaks that makes Jon want to move several chairs away from him. Oh, sure, Jon’s pretty good at the villain act himself, but this is different. This is the </span>
  <em>
    <span>weird</span>
  </em>
  <span> kind of different. He glances over at Nick and is unsurprised to find that the man has, in fact, </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> moved several chairs away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Uni says. The tension in the room drops. “I’ll put in a word about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Much appreciated,” Alex says, and turns back to his synthburger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next time Jon sees Alex, it’s in the small library in the prison, and he’s wearing a battered dark purple hoodie that smells like herbs and has countless eye patterns along its surface. He looks comfortable; he’s got his feet up on the table and is reading a book.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kitchen, which Jon passes by on the way to his cell for the night, smells like real honest-to-goodness meat. Ashlie shuts everyone in and briskly walks down the corridor towards the kitchen. She and Uni chatter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So at least Jon knows, now, that Alex keeps his promises. He’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not. He’s pondering it when he catches something out of the corner of his eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex is in his cell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>certain</span>
  </em>
  <span> Alex didn’t open or close any doors. It can’t have been more than a few minutes since lockup, and yet now Alex is silently leaning against one wall of the cell, a polite distance away from Jon. His hands are in his pockets. For a moment, Jon could </span>
  <em>
    <span>swear</span>
  </em>
  <span> a couple of the eyes on his hoodie blink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why and how are you in my room?” he finally asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex just shrugs. “Wanted to talk, and magic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Magic?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Nick sputters from behind the wall. “Magic is party tricks. He must’ve smuggled in a teleporter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex shakes his head slowly. “Nah. I’m just good at magic. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Real</span>
  </em>
  <span> good at magic. And this place ain’t warded against it at </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Magic,” Jon repeats. “Is that what you did to have Uni get you that hoodie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe,” Alex says. “Or maybe I just made him a good offer. I’m well versed in deals.” He drums his fingers against the cell wall, stares intently at Jon. “Well versed in a lotta things. But especially deals.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon bites back the urge to ask a dumb question. “I’d really prefer if you weren’t in my room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One moment Alex is there, the next moment he just… </span>
  <em>
    <span>isn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He’s outside, leaning against Nick’s door. “Listen, fellas, I’m gonna be out of here in like two days. Y’all want to make any exchanges before I go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon can hear the gears turning in Nick’s head, and he crosses his fingers behind his back. He doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> Nick, sure, but something tells him an </span>
  <em>
    <span>exchange</span>
  </em>
  <span> with Alex would be really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> bad for his fellow war criminal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick, to his credit, says nothing for a long time. To his </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> credit, however, he eventually says something, and it isn’t flat refusal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the catch?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll owe me a favor,” Alex drawls in that slick, smug tone, and Jon’s skin crawls. He can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>wait</span>
  </em>
  <span> for this guy to leave so </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> can go back to bullying Nick again. This is dangerous territory. He can only hope Nick sees the obvious trap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick takes a deep breath. “I’ll think about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure you will,” Alex says, and turns to stare at Jon. “And you, bud?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both of Alex’s eyes are open, shining with that malicious glint, fixed right on Jon’s face. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>extremely </span>
  </em>
  <span>unnerving. Jon takes another step back from the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll pass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Alex says. “I’ll see you around, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next morning, he’s gone.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>be gay do minecraft leave kudos if you liked this and a comment if you want to yell</p><p>it's been so goddamn long since i wrote that outro. anyway this fic was for me and one other person and i'm under no illusions otherwise</p></blockquote></div></div>
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